Betrothal of Hearts
by Rose du Nuit
Summary: Aragorn and Legolas open their heatrs to each other. SLASH!


Aragorn was in the garden of Rivendell, brooding. He had tried reading, and singing, and even climbing some trees, to clear his mind. Nothing had worked. He stopped avoiding his thoughts half way up a large oak. He leaned his back against the trunk. What was it about the Elven Prince of Mirkwood that drew his thoughts and attentions away from Arwen? Legolas had not been dressed oddly for and Elf when he had met him so long ago in Mirkwood, or at the Council of Elrond, yesterday. Could it be that he had defied his fathers orders and helped search for Gollum? Could it be his speed to pledge his loyalty and aid to Frodo on this long, perilous journey? Aragorn looked up at the night sky. "Elbereth! What is wrong with me? Why can I think of none but this fair, golden creature?" he prayed to the stars. "I have lived among Elves all my life, traveled among them as well. Although many of the Elves of Rivendell are darker than most, I grew up with Glorfindel, and traveled to Lothlorien, and I am betrothed to the most beautiful Elf I know." Then the truth of the matter pounced on him. He realized why he never felt completely comfortable with his engagement to Arwen. "Ah, yes, 'betrothed.' You know what that means," a voice inside his head seemed to say. "Your heart did not choose your bride, but her heart, and her father's. Yet, to you, Arwen was a friend. A sister. No more. Listen to your heart, Aragorn." "No, I do not truly love Arwen. But how could I love Thranduil's son? He is an Elf of the woods; he has a home. I am a Ranger; I belong nowhere. We could not be more different." Off in the shadows, Arwen heard Aragorn's words and in the silence she cried, the silver tears leaving shining tracks on her frosty cheeks. Legolas Greenleaf, the youngest son of Thranduil of Mirkwood, the golden Elf who could make anyone uncomfortable with his beauty, yet comfort them with his kindness. Perhaps it was meant to be, but she would still love Aragorn.  
  
In his room in the Last Homely House Legolas leaned on his balcony, his thoughts drifting back to the Council of Elrond. He sighed. "Gilthoniel! What is wrong with Aragorn?" he asked the night sky. "Boromir was simply acting too superior. 'Oh, I am the son of the Steward of Gondor!' He needed to be humbled. So why would Aragorn not stand up for himself? After all, he is Isildur's heir, and heir to the throne of Gondor. I know he does not fight as he debates. Yet, I shall still protect him as well as Frodo." Legolas sighed again, resting his head on his crossed wrists. "I suppose I should talk to Aragorn. Perhaps it is time for me to tell him how much I love him." Legolas lifted his head and gazed down at the garden below. Suddenly, his eyes caught some movement in the leaves of a huge oak. He watched, anticipating it was either Meriadoc or Peregrine. What he saw made his breath catch in his throat - Aragorn was climbing down the trunk. It was time. Quickly, Legolas jogged down the stairs to the garden. He was in such a hurry he almost ran into a sobbing Arwen. "Undomiel, what is the matter?" he asked, gripping her shoulders. "Talk to Aragorn, perhaps he will tell you; perhaps he will tell me." she murmured to the ground before running inside. "Aragorn!" Legolas called, knowing he would get no answer. *** Aragorn caught sight of the weeping Arwen as she ran inside. "She heard me," he muttered. "How could I have been so cruel?" Thoughts of Legolas suddenly invaded his mind. He saw the Prince chained to a wall and flogged. Scars had deformed his otherwise perfect back. New gashes wept blood. Old ones ripped open and bled afresh. Rivers of blood ran down his back, staining his tan leggings. Then the vision faded, and Aragorn found he was crying. He did nothing to stop the flow of the silver liquid, but continued thinking. At first, his thoughts said he had seen the future. The future if the Fellowship failed. Until he realized, that was no Orc, or Goblin with the whip - it was Thranduil. There was no mistaking the tall, fair Elven king. The blonde hair and silver crown betrayed him, No, it was not the future, but the past. Suddenly, Aragorn was jerked back to the present. Footsteps approached. He fiercely swiped at the unrelenting flow of tears. The footsteps stopped behind him.  
  
Legolas peered at Aragorn's back. How could Arwen cry when she is engaged to such a caring, and beautiful Man? He walked forward without realizing it. "Who is it?" Aragorn asked as Legolas came up beside him. Were those tears in his voice? Legolas circled around Aragorn and knelt in front of him. Were those tears dripping down his cheeks? Legolas reached out and cupped his hand around Aragorn's jaw, and wiped a falling tear from his cheek. The prince lifted the Ranger's face so that grey eyes looked into blue. "Oh, Legolas, I am sorry," Aragorn murmured. "Sorry for what?" Legolas asked. "Thranduil." Aragorn breathed. He gazed into Legolas's eyes and Legolas knew he had seen one of Thranduil's punishments. "Why?" "I refused to do things princes should. I refused to live inside the palace and marry the maiden he has me betrothed to. I told him I would only answer to a betrothal of heart - not money." "It was a noble cause, but you were hurt." "Not badly," Legolas lied, flinching at the memory of the whip. "However, I did not come here to talk about my past. Aragorn, I discovered when you passed through Mirkwood - when I knew of you as Wingfoot - that I loved you." Fresh tears ran down Aragorn's cheeks, but this time, he was smiling. "You are crying again," the Elf mused. "Yes, but because my love does not belong to Arwen, but to you. Aye, mellon, since we first met in Mirkwood, although, I just realized that it was you that my heart beats for each day." "Here is my betrothal to you," said Legolas, kissing Aragorn's lips tenderly. "And mine to you - a betrothal of heart," Aragorn replied once they had parted.  
  
From the balcony of her room, Arwen watched as love filled the garden and surrounded the couple below. And in the darkness, the Undomiel made a vow never to forget the wholesome love she had seen that night. She would tell others of it. And it is said that she weeps each time she tells the story, and that her tears become crystal hearts. And those who find one of these crystals shall be blessed with the purest love. 


End file.
